Marked As An Equal
by FeatheredMask
Summary: Harry finds a book. It becomes his daydreams, and soon a character steps forth to make it his life. Harry becomes the protagonist, and Hermione his lady Elizabeth. Sebastian brought his cutlery.
1. Contracting

Edited.

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><p>Harry struggled to remember the words, forced to start again as he hesitated and stuttered under the crack of a whip. The blood splattered on the stone in unnatural patterns, lines stretching from the dark puddles. Harry sucked in another breath and rasped out the last of the incantation as his eyelids drooped, heavy as the chains on the wrists.<p>

Feathers filled his vision, falling against a background of white void. A monochrome repetition of a simple scene. He had no being here, no body or mind to manipulate the world around. Even so, his voice worked fine, and he said more as it had been recounted in the journal. It had been specified as optional, but Harry wanted nothing left out. One wrong word, or lack of, could spell his death.

"I wish to make a contract," he echoed into the emptiness. "I name mine eye to mark myself for Sebastian Michaelis." A pain flared at the edge of his right eye, as if asking permission.

"If you once reject the faith, you can never pass through the gates of heaven." A low voice sailed through Harry, and he caught a glimpse of a crow. Hungry red power lurked here.

"Would someone who believes in God summon you?"

"I'll ask you again: do you wish to make a contract?" the voice asked, rather unnecessarily, in Harry's opinion.

"Don't be tedious. Just execute the contract and grant my wish!"

"Tell me the details of the contract."

Harry prepared to change the terms to accommodate himself, and spoke the condemning words. "Kill him. Kill the one who killed my parents and left me hated. Kill Voldemort."

Laughter.

"So mote it be." The voice held a tone dripping with mock. Harry tried to grasp the significance of it, but the phrase held nothing for him. The feathers reversed their direction, falling up, and the monochrome world was lost as more and more feathers smothered him.

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><p>Harry opened his eyes to find the robed figures of his torturers on the ground, most of the limbs bending at odd angles that couldn't have been comfortable. He heard a gurgling cry, and swiveled his head around to see a man- no, a <em>monster<em> - wretch another person's arm from its socket in a casual manner, putting an abrupt end to the screaming. He tossed the body aside, leaving it to land in a heap like a rag doll, clapping dust from his gloves as he came to Harry. He broke the rope without effort, and ripped the chains off his wrists the same way. Harry allowed himself to be picked up bridal style, too stunned and exhausted to say anything.

Harry lolled his head, fading in and out of consciousness.

He stiffened as something hard and cold touched his aching back, but relaxed when he realized the man set him on a bench in the park. The sun had set long past, and parents had taken children home long ago. By the time his head reached the wood, Harry had fallen asleep.

Harry woke up again to find himself in a large, lavish bedroom. Soft encased him on all sides, and pajamas of an extremely soft and smooth fabric cradled him in heavenly bliss. It all smelled like the small bits of candy nice adults gave him before Dudley took it away, but he recognized a faint tang to it that he had often smelled when taking the laundry out of the dryer.

Harry squirmed out to get a better look at the room, and found himself disoriented by a sudden clarity. His mouth hung open as he took in small details he would have never noticed, and that replaced his amazement of the expensive part of the room. Harry dived down to the carpet, entranced by the individual small bits of string. He found it astounding that each was made up of small threads that had a crumpled texture and jut up at the ends. The amount of detail he could see; how the light reflected off the threads, how the bits of softness had been stitched into an underlying net.

"Young master?"

Harry jerked up to stare at the butler in the doorway. He was the

from the night before, and he wore a slight smirk. The thing set a tray of tea and scones on the table.

Harry scrambled to his feet and balled his fists close to his chest, panic overtaking him.

The butler easily pried the fists away in Harry's frozen state, and to his shock, started undressing him. Once Harry had finished processing this anomaly, the butler was buttoning up the last button on a new shirt. He slid a simple ring on his finger and stepped back to allow Harry to examine his new apparel. It looked Victorian in origin, somewhat ornate, yet ordinary enough for him to be able to pass as the child of a wealthy man.

Harry took a drink of the tea that had somehow appeared in his hand, a light flavor like tasting a light pleasant perfume filling his mouth. A scone passed his lips, and he absently noted the lemon lilt.

The memory of the night before drifted back to him, most of it gruesome shots of dead men and his own blood. And the man without a speck of blood on him lying in wake of the carnage. He accepted that he had summoned a denizen of the abyss. With everything else gone, the lost child only had a soul to lose. The least he could have was revenge. He smirked; the word even sounded satisfying in his head.

"You are my butler. You will stay by my side until the end."

"Yes, my young master."

"Where are we?" Harry asked, looking around the room again. He felt no fear at asking the demon a question, not when he had it under his full control.

Sebastian, the name he had given it, answered smoothly, "Your new estate. You are the sole heir of the Potter inheritance, Lord Potter."

"Lord?"

"I took the liberty of checking what property you own and how much money you have, my lord," he added at Harry's shock, "Your parents did not leave you a pauper."

"Where..?" he trailed off.

"We are on a small island off the coast of England. Only the best anti-muggle wards, and of course I added my own."

"Muggle?"

"Non-magical. My lord, you are a wizard."

Harry took this in stride. After the ordeal with magical captors and summoning a demon, the wizard news didn't hold much in the shock factor department.

All he said was, "Teach me."

"You will attend school in September, two months from now. You won't have much time to learn magic in that span, not with the rest of the wizarding world to learn about and proper etiquette rules to be learnt."

"Etiquette?" Harry frowned. "Why etiquette?"

"You wouldn't want to unintentionally insult someone, would you?" Sebastian smirked.

"It would be best not to get on anyone's bad side," Harry grudgingly commented to himself. "I won't have to purposely sabotage my own work for Dudley, either." He smiled, for the first time since he was captured.

"Young master," Sebastian started. "Would you like to see yourself in a mirror?"

Harry walked over to the full-length mirror. He gasped, spotting the difference immediately. The design he had found in the journal now glowed on the surface of his eye. A dull, soft purple replaced the once emerald green iris. Sebastian entered the reflection, tugging the glove off his own left hand, the back of it emblazoned with the same design.

"It is our contract mark," Sebastian explained in the humming baritone. "You are marked, I am tamed-"

"My soul is not mine," Harry finished in a hollow whisper.

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><p>The 'candy' comment: inspired by something in a SE fic. (something about it not actually smelling like candy, but she'd never smelled anything clean.)<p>

Harry's a bit different than canon. He's more like Ciel in this fic, but not as stoic. For one, he actually smiled.


	2. Diagon Alley

Edited. I own neither series.

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><p>Hermione juggled the books in her hands, overjoyed at her luck. She had, of course, bought all of her school supplies the two months prior, but she a sale on history books? How could she resist? While her parents milled about and awkwardly made conversation in the Leaky Cauldron, she shopped. Of course, she'd read most of the history books already, but her recent check revealed she hadn't been able to buy the entire stock of history-related books. She still couldn't understand why history books, of all things, would go on sale. With a few more days to go until September, she had to fit in as much reading time as possible. Her parents weren't expecting her back for a few hours, letting her get a head start on reading them before the day was even over.<p>

Lost in her fantasies of planned reading, she almost missed the sudden hush falling over the Alley. Hermione skidded to a stop, briefly pausing to take notice of everyone else halting. One pair of footsteps echoed in the silence, becoming steadily louder as the person approached. Hermione turned in time for two people to brush past in velvet robes.

Robes, robes, what was with wizards and billowing fabric? Her eyes lingered on the one with a smirk in his eyes, before flicking to the other, made mysterious by the patch over one eye. They both appeared her age, despite how they radiated an aura she associated with older people in positions of power. A woman whispered something, and that started the chain reaction for everyone to bandy gossip and rumours, openly within earshot of the boys.

"I heard he was missing for months!"

"No one knows where he was."

"Two months ago he appeared as Lord Potter, with that human house elf."

Lord Potter? Harry Potter was one of those boys? Hermione glanced down at the books in her hands. They all contained the history of Harry Potter in them at one point or another. She supposed that was why they went on sale. They weren't accurate. The acknowledgement pained her, but it was best to have correct information than false.

"Dumbledore told the Prophet that Harry grew up with his muggle relatives. He couldn't possibly be a halfblood; see how he carries himself? Lily must have had at least one magical parent!"

All of the history books were over how Harry lived and grew up; there was an entire series of books over Harry's magical dangerous adventures as a kid. Now that Hermione saw the truth in front of her, all she held in her hands were theories and fantasy. Fiction.

"But why are they here? Surely they could owl anything they needed or rent out the Alley for a day with all that money."

Her curiosity piqued by that statement, Hermione followed behind the two boys. After discretely dumping the lies in a trashcan, of course. No one else bothered to follow the same idea, too caught up in gossiping and going about their own business. Hermione thought it an odd contrast to how muggles reacted around famous people.

She snuck behind them into a magical pet store. They took a glance at the snakes before swerving to the cats. The boy with gloves picked up a kitten and started cooing, showering it with affection and admiring the traits of the feline species. The boy with the eyepatch dragged him away and out the door, bypassing Hermione so she could hear him call the other one Sebastian.

Sebastian directed the other boy - Harry, she now knew to call him - to the Owl Emporium, but Harry refused and they continued down the Alley, drawing gossip and stares their way. They ignored it, not even glancing at the observers. An amazing feat of discipline, in Hermione's eyes.

The boys went into Ollivander's, Sebastian holding the door for Harry. Hermione loitered at the edge of the building, for a moment, shifting on her feet and darting her eyes. Sebastian turned his stare to her and beckoned, making her freeze as he only smirked.

"You want to go inside, right?"

Hermione hurried in, ducking to the side when Harry looked her way. It wasn't a glare, merely an asking look. He shrugged, and returned to Ollivander. The old man stared at Harry intently, almost on the verge of laughter.

"Harry Potter," he mused. It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." Ollivander moved closer to Harry.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." Mr. Ollivander leaned so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose.

"And that's where..." Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."

Ollivander's eyes flicked over to Sebastian, and back to Harry in so short a time that Hermione had to ask herself if she'd seen his eyes move. He chuckled slightly. "I presume the both of you will want wands?"

What kind of question was that? Oblivious to Hermione's disbelieving stare, the two seemed to understand the underlying meaning.

"Mr. Potter first, then."

Harry stepped forward. Ollivander pulled out a long tape measure with silver markings from his pocket.

"Which is your wand arm?"

Harry raised his right arm, a difference from Hermione's stuttered answer from when she first was here. The tape measure floated out of his hands to measure Harry from shoulder to finger, wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knuckle to forehead, and so many other distances, even his eyepatch.

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hair, phoenix tail feathers, heartstrings of dragons, and very rarely, the blood of a contract. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, of phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand." Harry suddenly seemed to realize that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave." Harry took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try -" Harry tried - but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no." Ollivander almost handed him another wand, but snatched it back and threw it over his shoulder. "My apologies, Mr. Potter, I don't know how that one got there. No unicorn hairs for you - you understand." He winked and tapped his temple to illustrate.

Harry nodded slowly. Sebastian whispered something to him, prompting Harry to say, "It's quite alright."

Harry tried. And tried. Confusion overruled polite smiles as time dragged on. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the wider his smile became.

"Tricky customer, eh. Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder, now - - yes, why not - unusual combination - holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." Harry took the wand. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on the walls.

Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious... " He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious.."

"Excuse me," said Harry, "but can you explain what's curious?" Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you that scar."

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He- Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great."

Ollivander shook his head an chuckled. "I suppose, considering," here he implied something, but Hermione didn't catch it. "Well, it fits, although I was hoping for one with the blood. Next, Sebastian."

Sebastian stepped forward and whispered something to Ollivander. The man brightened and ran to the other end of the shop. Several crashes were heard, along with a few cheers, before Ollivander came back with a box exactly like the others, tripping over the floor on his way.

"Thir-thir-thiteen inches, mahogany, contract blood from a starved demon."

Sebastian gave a graceful twirl of the wand, and dark feathers flowed forth. He nodded and set the payment on the desk. He turned to Hermione, making her freeze at his obvious acknowledgement of her. "Mademoiselle, it's your turn for a wand." His pleasant smile seemed like a smirk at that moment. Hermione hesitantly smiled back.

"Right, but I already have a wand-"

"Oh!" Ollivander perked up. "A back-up is always a good idea, Miss Granger. It's brilliant of you to think of!"

Ollivander continued babbling as he collected boxes. "Most wizards don't like the idea, see. The more foci a wizard has the more work involved, and sometimes their first wand will stop working for them! Of course, it can also just be a convenience and have none of those nasty side effects all the same. Cherry, thirteen inches, unicorn hair."

Hermione accepted the wand and waved it; flowers of all kinds sprouted from the end, twisting their stems and fusing the blooms to create one beautiful flower.

Ollivander nodded. "Yes, as I thought. I gave you that wand before, do you remember? Wands so often predict vaguely the wielder's future, and to have two predictions from wands isn't uncommon. Yet, this wand hadn't reacted to you before. Something in the past month has affected you greatly, and your future has changed from it."

Hermione thought about it, and nodded in acceptance. This was the wizarding world; Mcgonagall's demonstration of her animagus form had already proved her physics studies were for naught. Who was she to say that fortune telling wasn't real? That would be hypocritical.

"Have a nice day," Ollivander told them as they all left.

Hermione eagerly left, and was about to zip out of sight when Harry said, "I'm Harry Potter, and this is my butler, Sebastian."

Hermione's eyes widened at the word 'butler', but she shook the offered hand and said, "Hermione Granger. I'll be starting my first year at Hogwarts."

Harry nodded. "Same as us. You're muggleborn, right?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"The handshake." He explained, "In the wizarding world, with nobility, men shake hands or bow, women shake hands or curtsey, and men and women always curtsy and bow to each other. If a woman shakes a man's hand in greeting, it is considered a grievous insult."

Hermione's face burned. "But you incited the handshake!"

Harry grinned. "According to wizarding etiquette, the man can't be placed at fault."

"That's...that's sexist!"

"And that's what makes it funny to catch you like that! I had three guesses as to why you shook my hand."

Hermione paused, and laughed.

"We'll see you at the train, then. Sebastian, let's go."

Hermione waved goodbye to them, and started back to the Leaky Cauldron. Her foot stopped in midair though, and she changed her direction, toward Flourish and Blotts again.

The wizarding population was small. She had to be prepared for when she came across another lord or the son of one.

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><p>This Hermione is a bit different from canon, as with how she accepted divination as real this time around. Where the 'Mr' is added before Ollivander's name are places where I copied directly from the book.<p> 


	3. Knight

Edited.

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><p>Hermione snapped her book shut upon its end and pulled down her trunk to pack it away. She felt satisfied with herself. On a whim, she pulled out a compact mirror to school her expression. Her eyelids went down a few millimeters to achieve a look of seriousness and boredom. Her smile relaxed so it wasn't as face-tearing, reminding herself that some people were unnerved by a hyper visage. Once everything was stowed away, her mind leaped back to excitement and everything magical she would learn at Hogwarts.<p>

The compartment door rattled open, and a red-haired head poked in, wide blue eyes latching onto her frizzy hair. "Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

"Of course." Hermione beamed.

"Thanks. I'm Ron Weasely."

He didn't bow or hold out a hand, a situation which her new books hadn't prepared her for. She suspected him to be either half-blood or muggleborn, as Harry had assumed of her.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she replied in kind, and stood to curtsey. She almost giggled at his gobsmacked expression. "I read a few books on wizarding curtesy."

"That's just between nobles. My family isn't nearly that rich."

Hermione frowned. So he was pureblood. "It isn't about money, Ron. It's about first impressions and how people perceive you."

He snorted and turned his head to look out the window, his nose raised haughtily. "I don't care about that stuff. It tells you nothing about that person other than that they care more about money and themselves than family or friends."

Hermine gasped, but it appeared Ron hadn't noticed. She thought back to Harry. He had told her about the hand-shakes and followed all of the etiquette rules. Yet, in contrast to what Ron said, Harry had no family to speak of and had tried to befriend her using those same etiquette rules even though she had been stalking him, and she was muggleborn.

The sound of her trunk being yanked from the overhead space jerked Ron from daydreaming.

"What are you-" he cut off with a wince as the compartment door slammed shut.

Hermione's face was determination, ignoring the screeching caused from dragging her trunk on the floor behind her. A few heads poked out to see the source of the sound, and the doors closed again quickly once they'd satisfied their curiosity. Ron's words echoed in Hermione's head, blinding her to her surroundings. She continued on to the next cart, through which played a soft aria, oddly enough.

Hermione knocked on the door of the first compartment she came to. Her second knock stopped halfway, coming to rest on air where the door should have been.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Sebastian asked, watching her face morph from anger to confusion to flustered.

"Oh, Sebastian! I'm really sorry, I wanted to get away from that boy and all of the compartments were full so-"

Sebastian opened the door wider, wordlessly cutting her off. "You wished to find my lord. Please, come in."

Hermione hurried in and sat across from Harry. Sebastian effortlessly put her trunk away. Finding Harry with his nose in a book, she coughed awkwardly.

"A boy told me that anyone who acts like nobility only cares about money." Hermione waited for a reaction; surprise, shock, outrage, maybe a sad pout with eyes sparkling with tears.

With no response, she looked to Sebastian. "So, how does this butler thing work? You can't be much older than us, so why?"

Sebastian smiled. "I owe my lord a life debt. I'm serving him as his butler to repay hm."

Hermione made an 'o' sound but didn't push for further details. The Grangers did not raise a rude child. "Have you read about the Houses? I hope I'm sorted into Gryffindor."

Harry looked up from his book, finally. "Gryffindor, from what I've read, sounds like it's easy to stereotype and easier to conform to that stereotype." He made a face. "Can you imagine? Being called a 'wanna-be hero', which would then lead you to want to spite them, making you out to be exactly as they said."

"I wouldn't do that."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about. I say something, anything, and your mind says, 'I'm not like that and I'll prove it'."

Hermione bit her lip to keep her from saying those exact words. It unnerved her to be used as a negative example, since usually her position was as the prime example of an overachieving student. "I...suppose," she acquiesced, her pride knocked down a few notches. "Then what House are you thinking of?"

"Ravenclaw," he said with finality. "No obvious good or bad affiliations, and nothing in the description that can be used against us. Not to mention, there would be allies with all kinds of knowledge there if we so need it. Think of it, one with knowledge of laws, or a specialist in mercantile. Profit can be had, monetary or political."

"Hufflepuff sounds like it's for the followers," Hermione said, realizing his train of thought.

"The pawns," Sebastian added, placing a cups of tea in front of them both. Harry nodded in thanks, and Hermione did the same, wondering when he'd made it.

"Aren't you a pawn?" Harry asked, after thanking him for the tea.

"I am your 'knight', my lord."

"The cunning and ambition of Slytherin is often mistaken for evil," Hermione continued. "Ravenclaw is the one place without bias!"

"So you see my reasoning. Besides which, this would affect the reputation of the Potters. Ravenclaw House would say nothing of affiliation or intent. Sebastian says it has to do with politics."

"Sound reasoning," complimented Hermione. She felt guilty for leaving Sebastian out of the conversation, but he seemed content with the situation of being another kid's butler.

They continued talking about small things, and Harry said that it had turned into a fun part of the day to guess what kind of tea Sebastian made, and advised Hermione to pay more attention to her teas. She accepted an offer of Sebastian bringing her tea every morning with breakfast. They both smiled at this and hoped they would all end up in the same House. At that time, Sebastian stepped out of the compartment. Through the almost opaque window Hermione could see a few other heads, but couldn't make out any faces. A moment passed, and Sebastian came back inside, with that smile that never reached his eyes.

"What was that?" Harry asked.

"A few snakes trying to slither in on us. Not to worry, Master, I took care of them."

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><p>Sebastian joined the clapping blue and black table with much more dignity than the previous students sorted, and did not carry away the raggedy hat like a previous student. An older classman clapped him on the back, and he laughed good-naturedly. He made a space for his master, and a few students introduced themselves with promises to help him find his way around. Sebastian thanked them, but commented that he wouldn't feel right abusing their kindness. Before they could reply, Harry Potter was called to be sorted.<p>

Through all of the whispers and awes, his master walked with dignity and an air of a nobleman, accepting the glances in stride as though he received them on a daily basis. The Hat was set on his head, and once the hall had reached its peak in anxiety, it shouted out, "Ravenclaw!"

The House of Ravens shouted and cheered and threw up their hats. Sebastian heard a student cry, "Our savior isn't an idiot!" The red and gold table had a pair of twins chanting oh so dramatically, "We lost Potter! We lost Potter!" as the rest cried in mourning of the loss of his master. The green table was noticeably subdued, but it acted the same whenever any other student failed to join their ranks. The Hufflepuffs clapped politely, and they watched the reactions of the other tables with amusement.

Harry, who had recently revealed to Sebastian that he desired to emulate his bratty master Phantomhive, sat in the seat offered by his butler. Harry shook hands and said the courtesy introduction, nodding to the girls and kissing one's hand on request. Hermione smiled across the table, and as the Sorting came to a finish, food appeared on the table.

At another table, a blond boy plotted. At another, a redhead found himself instant friends and the girl with frizzy hair out of mind.


End file.
